


Revolution

by star_named_andy



Series: 1972 [7]
Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 1970s, 70s, 70s lingo, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barduil - Freeform, M/M, Modernish, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adrenaline rush pumping through Thranduil ceased as soon as he saw him standing there, reaching out to him – Bard; his guilty pleasure, his mystery, his beloved, his everything was standing there in the midst of the pandemonium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of its characters or content.)

_\--- Bard ---_

It was impossible for Bard to forget about the _big event,_ even after he and Thranduil had reconciled and went on more harmoniously.

For a solid week before Saruman and Gandalf, the two presidential candidates, were due to show up in Hobbiton in the start of August, Thranduil was up to his eyeballs in preparations and Bilbo and Thorin couldn’t stop talking about it; Thorin was one of the supporters of Gandalf’s platform and he had donated a lot of funds to his campaign, so Gandalf would actually be meeting him and Bilbo to personally thank them for their patronage. It was all such a big deal and everyone was in a tizzy.

Bard had told himself he wouldn’t stress over it and that he wouldn’t go to the demonstration when the day came, but when Ori came into his office and found him staring forlornly at the wall, the assitant set his hands on his hips.

“You’ve been in a mood all day.” Ori stated.

“I’m just a little fatigued; didn’t get enough sleep, that’s all.” Bard said clearing his throat and straightening himself in his chair.

“I didn’t think you would be so bummed out about not meeting President Saruman.”

“No, it’s not that. Don’t worry about me, Ori.”

“Do you want me to send up a coffee for you?” Ori asked as he came forward and lifted Bard’s cup. He gave it a displeased look. “It’s still full _and_ it’s cold. There’s _definitely_ something wrong.” Suddenly Ori’s face lit up with enlightenment and Bard quirked a brow. “ _I know_! Something is happening isn’t it?”

“What do you mean something is happening? What do you mean?” Bard asked, not keeping up with whatever Ori was thinking.

“You’re dating that blonde hippie fellow, aren’t you? Thranduil?”

“Yes – how did you know that?”

“The card on the flowers was an obvious sign.”

“You _read_ my flower card?”

“Hey, I needed to know if you were available of not.” Ori said simply with a wave of his hand and continued. “Everyone knows who Thranduil is, whether they ignore him on the street or not. Whether they know him by name or just as ‘the blonde hippie’, everyone knows him. Is he up to something?”

“Um…I’m not sure I’m at liberty to say.” Bard said slowly, not wanting Ori to somehow get Thranduil in trouble. The young busy body clapped his hands and stuck his finger in the air.

“That’s _it_ – he must be staging something big, huh? You poor thing, you must be so worried!”

“You think I should be?” Bard asked a little frantically and Ori nodded most zealously.

“ _I_ would be. The police have anticipated Thranduil and his gang showing up in the square to make a fuss. I hope things don’t escalate like they did at Kent State a while back.”

“Kent State? What happened at Kent State?” Bard felt like his suit was getting tighter and he rubbed the back of his neck furiously.

“You don’t know? Well, two years ago at Kent State a bunch of students were protesting the war and four of them were killed by national guardsmen.”

“ _WHAT_?” Bard exclaimed quite loudly as he stood from his chair and Ori just nodded. He was now overcome with worry and couldn’t get the image of Thranduil being shot down from his pedestal out of his head. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” Bard said and slipped past a very confused Ori.

‘Why didn’t he tell me? He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to worry, but goddam it!’ Bard thought the whole time he rushed through the Erebor building and out onto the street. He ran, unbuttoning his blazer as he went along to get more air ventilating through; he couldn’t tell if it was just immensely hot out or if it was just him.  Part of him was fueled by pure anger, but what really propelled him into the square was his deep rooted concern for this man that he _loved_ – this stupidly brave, bleeding heart liberal that he _loved_.

As he reached the square, he had to slow as he pushed through the crowd and noticed that his heart was still pounding harder than it ever had – it almost _hurt_ – no, it _definitely_ hurt.

‘Am I that out of shape?’ he thought briefly as he clutched his chest and looked up above the crowd, searching for that golden head rising above everyone else on his giant structure with his flags and his megaphone.

‘If he could just say one thing, I could find him easily. Just say _something_ , Thranduil! _Where are you_?’

Bard’s hands were practically stuck on the back of his neck and running back through his hair; he’d only been with Thranduil for two months now and he was _freaking out_ about his safety, but Bard did not have the mental capacity to reason whether or not he should be as worried as he was or not. The fact of the matter was he was enraptured by the unraveling, striking, charming, unique enigma that was Thranduil Oropherion and there was no going back from the love Bard had developed for him even if he wanted to. The only reason he could think of that would possibly ever drive them apart was how bad Thranduil made him worry and for some reason, that was something Bard could force himself to live with if he had to.

An eruption of cheering exploded around him as two older looking men and their counterparts appeared on the red, white and blue decorated stage that had been set up there in the square, but Bard could care less about their presence.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Hobbiton.” A voice spoke over a speaker. “Today, we have the honor of hosting our President Saruman White and Vice President Grima Wormtongue, and this year’s opposition team Gandalf Grey and Beorn Bearmen. We will begin with a speech from each of our candidates and proceed afterward with a brief question and answer session.”

“In a world not so far away, the dawn does not bring a brighter day!” an intangible voice thundered out and suddenly all heads were turning in search of the source.

‘It’s him, I know it – where are you?’ Bard thought with his eyes flitting about frantically. He had to do something before Thranduil could get hurt, but what?

“The dawn and the night are one in that wretched, war stricken world! The lives of our beloved men, our brothers, sons, fathers, husbands, lovers and friends have become a never ending nightmare designed with constant fear and bloodshed! Enough is enough! Say no to Saruman and yes to Gandalf!” Thranduil’s voice bellowed.

“Oh my god,” Bard breathed as he looked up to the city hall building. He knew Thranduil had to be crazy to have snuck onto the city hall rooftop and shout so everyone could hear him.

“Hey, get down from there! Somebody stop them!” someone shouted and the audience burst into an uproar.

“No war, no more!” Thranduil chanted and the rest of his followers joined him, overpowering the sound of the disrupted crowd below.

“Shall we proceed with the speech giving?” Saruman’s voice broke through and there was a conversation going on between the moderators.

Bard parted through the crowd in a hurry, jetting toward the city hall building where an entire brigade of police officers and SWAT members were assembling.

“THRANDUIL! THRANDUIL, GET DOWN! GET DOWN _NOW_!” Bard shouted, but no one could hear him through the chaos. Bard thought he would keel over right there. The officers were surely quickly approaching the rooftop as they filed into the building. A group of people started flooding over from the assembly and from the streets, demanding that the officers leave the protestors alone. At least someone was on Bard’s side.

The remaining officers formed a barrier around the entry, pushing back against the wave of people now resisting them. The onlookers were thoroughly disturbed and started to disperse. Bard had his eyes locked on Thranduil who was screaming his chant at the top of his lungs and brandishing his flag. As he was grabbed and dragged away, the flag came hurdling to the ground and the pole snapped in half.

“THRANDUIL!” Bard cried hopelessly. His breath hitched as Thranduil came stumbling through the entranceway with two officers with their hands on him and he twisted in resistance. He was cuffed and still preaching to his heart’s content.

“THRANDUIL! THRANDUIL!” Bard called, sailing over the line of officers keeping them apart. He reached his hand out and as their gazes met, Thranduil’s eyes swelled.

 

_\--- Thranduil ---_

The adrenaline rush pumping through Thranduil ceased as soon as he saw him standing there, reaching out to him – Bard; his guilty pleasure, his mystery, his beloved, his _everything_ was standing there in the midst of the pandemonium.

He broke away from the grip of the officers restraining him and flew over to Bard, furious at his inability to take his hands.

“Bard, you have to get out of here _now_! You shouldn’t be here!” he shouted, but Bard was quickly yanked away from him. “DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Thranduil ripped out and as he felt authoritarian hands creeping on him again, he knocked his shoulder back and thrashed against them, kicking and writhing to keep the officers off of him. He kept toward the wall of officers where Bard was trying to at least grip his clothes to pull Thranduil over, but he couldn’t reach and Thranduil couldn’t get close enough. The only thing that stopped Thranduil was the butt of a gun smashing across his head and he fell to his knees.

Everything was moving and he couldn’t focus on any sounds or sights; he could only just barely make out words and images as he was kicked down. He tried to sit up, but he was firmly pinned down into the cement beneath him. He could barely see the blur that was Bard, but then he vanished, collapsing at repetitive fists flying into his face.

Thranduil groaned and shouted until his voice was only a thin rasp, even as he was pepper-sprayed. He was convinced that if he could just get up for _one_ moment, he thought that he could somehow save Bard and take him away. He knew that if Bard was brought into jail, he and his family and even Bilbo and Thorin would be in deep trouble. His tears were overflowing now from the pepper-spray, but in the pit of his stomach he knew that this would be bad for everyone, that Bard was right, and that he hated every single person who caused Bard to bleed. Thranduil was suddenly thrust upward and found he had no strength in his legs. He couldn’t keep his eyes on Bard. He struggled to keep his eyes open and blacked out before he even reached the police car.

 

As soon as Thranduil woke, he could feel every swollen, aching part of his body. He was immeasurably sore and sullen. Now that he was conscious, everything came flooding back into his head.

“Shit.” He breathed and rubbed his fingers into his temples; his hands were scraped, bruised and caked with crusted blood. He could only imagine what the rest of him looked like – and Bard, what did he look like? Was he in horrible pain? Where was he? Where were the kids? Was Bard mad at him? _Where was he_? Even if Bard hated him and never wanted to see him again, he at least needed to be okay.

He could be 95% sure that Legolas, Bain, Sigrid and Tilda were safe wherever they were. Bilbo would surely see to that if he even knew what was going on, which he imagined he did…he was in the square, after all.

He rested his head against the cold, hard cell wall and stared blankly at the wall across from him. He fiddled with his bracelets and drowned himself in thoughts of self-loathing; he felt that he deserved nothing more. No matter who saw the rally he had been planning and dedicating himself to for so long, he had made a horrible mistake.

“Is this the one?” an officer’s voice rose and a familiar voice followed.

“Yes, that’s him.”

Thranduil sat up promptly and saw none other than Thorin Oakenshield standing beside the officer unlocking the door with his hands deep in his pockets. The officer nodded for Thranduil to be released and walked off with keys jingling on his belt loop. Thorin muttered a thank you to the officer and Thranduil pushed out a sigh as he sauntered over to Thorin, who was looking very prim and proper in every aspect except for his face. It was clear by his expression that he was holding back a massive amount of rage.

“You’re bailing me out, huh? That’s pretty rad.” Thranduil spoke and Thorin gave a curt nod.

“Yes, I’m bailing you out.”

“Did Bilbo put you up to this?”

“No. I actually knew I’d be coming here to retrieve you before he even suggested it. He wanted to come, but he was a bit too emotional…and someone had to gather all the kids and keep them calm and informed…I’m not sure how well the calm part is going over, however.”

“So Legolas is alright?”

“Yes, he’s safe.”

“And Bain, Sigrid and Tilda?”

“Yes, they’re safe too.”

“What about Bard? Where is he? Is he okay?”

“That, I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know_?” Thranduil asked, voice rising and the knot that was his stomach jumped up into his chest.

“I don’t know if he’s okay or not, but I know where he is, or better where he’s headed. He’s on his way back to England as we speak.”

“ _What_?” Thranduil burst out. His heart crumpled and disintegrated into thousands of microscopic, unattainable pieces. The man he’d come to love so dearly was sailing across the ocean. “ _Why_?!”

“He’s being deported.”

“ _Deported_?! But can’t you, I don’t know, do _something_ , _anything_?”

“I’ve already tried that. I can’t stop the process now; I can only get him back over here once he’s there.”

“ _Oh my god_.” Thranduil breathed hushedly, poking his fingers into his temples. Gone. Bard was alone, hurt, and gone.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Thorin said firmly and led Thranduil out with his hand gently attached to his elbow.

Thranduil was escorted quietly home by Thorin and his driver Bofur. The ride to his Mirkwood home was silent, but once they reached their destination, Thorin exited the car with Thranduil and walked him up the pathway to the door. Thranduil was still wiping unavoidable tears from his face when Thorin finally spoke.

“What the hell were you thinking? Did you honestly think that no consequences would come of this shenanigan of yours?” Thorin hissed and Thranduil’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been telling you since I met you that this social justice scene isn’t all just pretty, romantic pictures of heroes who get by unscathed!”

“I never said that it was!” Thranduil’s voice cracked. “It’s all I’ve had, it’s what _we_ had, my wife and I. We believed in the cause.”

“And what about Legolas? When you had him, what did you do? When your wife was sick, what did you do?”

“I stopped.” Thranduil answered, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

“Why? To be there for them when they needed you? To be there to raise Legolas? To be there to support your dying wife? Why is this time any different, Thranduil? That man and his children _love you_ and you still have Legolas to think of. Your cause is noble, but you are so concentrated on everyone in Vietnam that you forget you have to protect yourself and the ones you love first and foremost. You have a responsibility – you are lucky enough to be here to fulfill that responsibility.”

“You’re right, Thorin, and I fucked up. I’m a horrible person, a horrible father, a horrible friend and a horrible partner.”

“Don’t go on like that. Are you going to sulk and hate yourself or are you going to step up to the plate and _do something_?”

“I’m going to do just that.” Thranduil said resolutely and Thorin gave an approving nod.

“I’d like you to know that what I saw today was disturbing. The police brutality was completely uncalled for…in conclusion, I have decided to back your efforts, but under _my_ terms. We won’t talk more about it right now…Legolas is at my house for the time being.”

“And the Bowman children? They’re not being deported?”

“We managed to keep the fact that Bard has children a secret. He was smart enough to lie when they asked him at the station.”

“Is it legal to just ship him off like that?”

“He’s barely been here three months and he had a scuffle with the law. It’s perfectly legal. I’m going to make sure he gets back here as soon as possible. Bilbo is on phone duty in case he manages to call us when he gets there.”

“How long will it take?”

“That depends on when he gets there, when he gets a hold of us and how fast we can transfer him money.”

“What if he doesn’t have a place to go? What if he’s hurt? Did they treat him before just throwing him out like that?”

“ _Calm down_.” Thorin said, planting his hands firmly on Thranduil’s shoulders and giving him a keen look. “ _I don’t know_ if he has a place to go and I highly doubt he was treated, but from what I know about his condition it was nothing too damaging.”

“God – what’s going to happen to the kids?”

“We’ll go on as normal as possible. Bilbo and I will look after them. I expect you will too, seeing as you and Bard are rather serious.”

“I don’t know what we are right now. He must be so angry with me…I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“Until you know, you’re going to be there for those children. Understood?”

“Thank you, Thorin. I truly appreciate all you’re doing.”

Thorin simply gave another short nod in response.

“Come over when you’re ready. I will let Legolas know you’re alright…I’ll give you some time to clean up.”

Thorin smoothly departed, leaving Thranduil alone with his thoughts. He meandered through his doorway and as he floated through the house, he could vividly see the ghosts of him, his wife, Legolas and Bard all drifting through the rooms and corridors at same time, sometimes seeping through each other, but never recognizing each other. They moved about playing out various scenes from Thranduil’s memories. He could see Legolas aging continuously until he finally reached his current age. They all moved harmoniously through and around each other, playing out all of Thranduil’s life in that house.

He grumbled as he looked at his face in the bathroom mirror. He dabbed carefully at his sores and wondered where Bard was exactly at this moment, what he was thinking, how the children must feel. He needed his son. He needed to see the Bowman children.

Before hopping into his van and zipping over to Oakenshield Manor (luckily he’d been picked up to go to the rally earlier so he still had the van), Thranduil snagged his little elk plush toy from his bed headboard where it proudly stood. He pressed his nose against the elk’s, hoping that some of Bard’s kiss would be left over from when he first gave him the toy.

“I miss you…” he murmured. He took in a sharp breath, gathered his bearings, placed the elk on the dashboard and took off.

As he arrived, he was first greeted by Thorin who had stayed home for the support of the children. He seemed genuinely pleased that he was there – what a rarity that was.

As he approached the living room, he could hear significant sniffling and weeping. He slowly entered and everything for a moment all fell silent as Bilbo, Legolas and the Bowman children spotted him.

Legolas bounded from his chair with no indecision about the matter and hurled himself into his father’s chest. Thranduil’s hands floated gently to the back of Legolas’ head and he stroked his soft hair gently as Legolas pushed muffled cries into Thranduil’s chest.

“I can’t hear anything you’re saying, Legolas.” Thranduil offered gently, but Legolas just buried his head deeper. He tilted Legolas’ head upward and the young boy’s face was absolutely drenched in tears.

“Look what they did!” he choked and sucked in a sharp breath as he studied his father’s wounded face. Thranduil summoned a smile and caressed Legolas’ cheek.

“But I’m okay now, Legolas. I’m here, I’m alive, and we’re all safe.”

Thorin ushered them away into another room to give them privacy where Legolas kept his head bowed, droplets dripping onto his leg as he gripped his father’s hand and exhausted all of his tears.

“I’m sorry, Legolas.” Thranduil finally said as Legolas’ choppy breathing set back into a steady pace and he wiped the remainder of his tears with a tissue.

“Are you going to be okay?” Legolas spoke tentatively.

“Yes, I’ll be just fine. It’s just a couple of scratches here and there.”

“Don’t _lie_. I’m sixteen, dad. Just tell me the truth.” At the offense in his voice, Thranduil gave in.

“Okay, I hurt more than I’d like to admit…I don’t want you to worry; just focus on the present. We’re all alright.”

“Why did the _police_ do that to you? What did you do?”

“They didn’t like what I had to say and I tried to give them a little tussle; that’s where I went wrong. Never try to fight a cop, Legolas.”

“I wouldn’t because that’s stupid.”

“Yes, it is stupid and I’m sorry.”

“Why did they send Bard away?”

“He was trying to help me. If you move from another country and get involved with the law, they can send you away if they think you’re going to make trouble.”

“He’s coming back though, right?”

“Thorin and Bilbo are on top of it.”

“What’s going to happen to the Bowmans?”

“I’m not sure…we have to wait to hear from Bard and figure things out from there. I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to stay here with them and you have to stay too.”

“Alright…we’ll stay.”

 

After Legolas was calm, they joined the Bowmans and the Oakenshields in the living room. The Bowmans were very welcoming and accepting of Thranduil’s being there, but Thranduil felt he didn’t deserve it; it was _his fault_ that their father was gone. How could they so easily embrace him and cry on his shoulder?

Thranduil laid in one of the guest rooms wide awake for hours after retrieving his little elk from the van. He never thought that literally everything could fall apart because of his mission, the message he’d been holding so close for years.

“You would probably kill me if you were here.” Thranduil spoke half to his late wife and half to Bard as he balanced the elk on his chest and picked fuzz from its antlers. “I should have _listened_ , even if I didn’t think it was dangerous. Bard wanted me to stop and I should have, for his sake…he would have done the same.”

He couldn’t stay in bed, so he paced around his temporary bedroom and fiddled with the trinkets in the room. He rummaged through the drawers and closets which only contained some note paper and clean sheets and pillow cases. He restlessly brought himself out into the hall and peered into the room where Legolas was fast asleep. The curtains were open as he liked them to be and a sliver of moonshine shone on his serene, resting body.

Knowing that Legolas was at peace, he continued to wander to the lower levels of the mansion and found himself following the light into the kitchen. He knocked on the door before Bilbo called out to him. He let himself in and Bilbo and Sigrid were sitting across from each other at the table in their pajamas.

“Can’t sleep?” Sigrid asked softly and Thranduil nodded shortly.

“It’s hard to.”

“Come, come, sit. I’ll get you some tea.” Bilbo offered, springing up from the table and running over to get out another tea cup and saucer. Thranduil placed himself in a stool at the small table and Sigrid reached out to him, closing her hand around his.

“He’ll be back soon. I just have to keep telling myself that.” She said very wisely.

“I’m sorry for all of this. Sincerely.” Thranduil said peering his eyes up into hers and she raised a brow very similar to the way Bard did.

“Sorry? We don’t blame you for any of this, not one of us. You’re an adult and can make your own decisions, but so is da and he’s very stubborn. It doesn’t surprise me that he ran into town looking for you.”

“It doesn’t surprise me one bit either.” Bilbo said as he shuffled back over with a hot cup of tea and placed it in front of Thranduil. “He’s such a worrier, that one. If he knew what you were doing, which it seems like he did, there was no keeping him from being there no matter what he may have told you previously.”

“Do you think he’s alright over there, Sigrid?” Thranduil asked and a smile formed on her lips.

“Of course he is. Da can stand anything you throw at him. His strength amazes me, it really does.”

“When he comes back, I need to fix things if he’ll let me.” Sigrid and Bilbo nodded in agreement approvingly. “Hopefully he doesn’t loath me for not listening to him and…all this.”

“I don’t think da is capable of hating anyone.” Sigrid professed honestly.

“If anything, he is just as worried about all of us as we are him.” Bilbo finished and gave Thranduil a pat on the arm.

Even after the comfort that Bilbo, Sigrid and the tea provided, Thranduil’s eyes stung with consciousness. It was becoming apparent that the only way he’d get any sleep was getting that call from Bard or literally being so tired that he passed out, but neither of those options seemed to be coming very soon.

 

_\--- Bard ---_

Alfrid had been right after all. He was back – well, not quite.

Bard had been dragged to the police station and had been questioned incessantly, but he could hardly remember any of it. Before he knew it, he somehow ended up at deportation and then on a ship back to England. This day had been a whirlwind and he couldn’t keep track of what time it was to save his life. He didn’t know how long he’d been awake by the time four days passed and he finally reached England. He hadn’t even spoken to anyone he knew in that time, either. He only knew that Thorin had been furiously making phone calls to try to stop the deportation when the news of it first broke, but it was impossible. Now he was stuck alone at the unloading dock with no money, which meant no phone calls, no cabs, no food, and no place to stay.  To top it all off, he was a forty minute drive from Laketown.

He trudged five miles until he finally reached some familiar surroundings, asking constantly for directions on the way. His feet, still clad in his now ruined dress shoes, ached like hell. After reaching Laketown, he had to seek out an old friend of his from work and explain his situation. He tried not to beg too much, but his friend eventually agreed to let him stay in his home. In return, Bard would have to sleep on the couch and at least pick up some of the housework while he stayed. Bard didn’t complain one bit.

As soon as he pried off his shoes, he grabbed the phone anxiously and dialed the Oakenshield house number. He needed to know how he’d be getting back, _if_ he was getting back. He knew that Bilbo and Thorin would most likely do all in their power to ship him back to the states as soon as possible, but that would end up as another debt owed – he couldn’t think of that now. His family _needed_ him; if there would be a debt, it would be one worth paying.

Only one ring passed on his end before the phone was picked up.

“Oakenshield residence, this is Bilbo Baggins-Oakenshield speaking.” Bilbo spoke pleasantly and Bard grinned groggily.

“Boy, am I glad to hear your voice, Bilbo!”

“BARD!” Bilbo practically screamed in his ear. Bard winced, but didn’t grumble about it. He felt light with relief at hearing a familiar voice after the wild of a journey he had been forced to endure. “Bard, oh Bard you’re okay!”

“Yes, yes I’m okay. Tired, broke, and beat up, but okay none the less.”

“I’m so glad! Where are you right now?”

“I tracked down an old work friend of mine in Laketown so I’ll be staying with him and his family for now.”

“He’ll be able to keep housing you however long it takes to get you back?”

“As far as I know, yes.” Bard pushed his fingers back through his hair and slid his hand down to the backside of his neck at the thought of his friend changing his mind and having to find another place to squat.

“That’s _such_ great news. I can’t wait to let everyone know that you’re alive and well!” Bilbo cheered.

“How are my kids? Not worrying themselves sick, I hope.”

“They’re a little beside themselves, but they’re pulling right through, Bard. They have ultimate faith in their da.”

“Good. Tell them that I love them and miss them dearly and that everything will be fine.”

“I will, I will…and what should I tell Thranduil?” Bilbo’s voice fell almost to a whisper as he spoke that name. Bard rubbed the back of his neck, looking for an answer to give Bilbo. After four grueling days on the ship, Bard found that keeping Thranduil from his thoughts was impossible; just thinking his name brought back a real, physical pain in his chest.

“So he’s out of jail, I assume?” Bard asked, still indecisive on what exactly he’d have Bilbo say to Thranduil, if he had him deliver any message at all.

“Yes, he is. He has been for a few days now.”

“I figured…he’s alright, then?”

“He’s still in rough shape from the way the police left him and he’s been very miserable…so I guess the answer to that question would be ‘sort of’. He just called a short while ago, actually. I keep telling him I will let him know when I heard from you, but he keeps on calling. He’s a mess, Bard.”

“I can’t worry about him right now – there’s just too much going on for me right now. Just make sure that my kids are okay. Thranduil can take care of himself and he has Legolas to think about. He shouldn’t be thinking about me.” Bard said very coldly and unconvincingly. “I _want_ to think about him, and…now just isn’t a good time. It will be a while before I get back anyway, so…we’ll have time to simmer and think of the right words. Just let him know all is well.”

“I understand.” Bilbo said. “Enough of that then – what I need you to do is set up a banking account over there as soon as you can. That will be the easiest way to send you money so you can get out of there.”

“I’ll get right on that. I’ll get back to you on the progress – thank you, Bilbo.”

Bard changed into some more comfortable clothes which were graciously lent to him and took to the streets to try to get himself a banking account. He shot over to the bank he used to go to only to find it closed. All of the banks in Laketown were closed. He returned to his shelter, hoping that the next day would bring better fortune.

He moseyed through town later on through the backstreets to avoid being noticed by anyone he knew. He wanted to avoid repeating his story over and over again because for one, it was no one’s business, and for two, it wasn’t a pleasant story to recall.

It was all so conflicting. Of course he missed his Thranduil, but he couldn’t help but be angry with him, even though all that happened wasn’t _directly_ Thranduil’s fault. Bard was partly to blame. He didn’t have to ditch work and run into the square like a mad man to try to get Thranduil out of there; he knew the whole time that what he was doing wasn’t smart, but he had been completely possessed by the love he felt for Thranduil. He couldn’t lose another love. It wasn’t an option.

He balled his fists, aggravated at how frustrating his conflicting feelings were as he came to his old street. As he came to a ritual slow to stop and admire the home he used to share with his wife and children, his jaw dropped. His hazel eyes clouded with tears and he dropped to his knees as he stared at the pile of dust and rubble where his home used to stand.


End file.
